


Pangs

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 3 08 context, Hidden Attraction, I Blame Tumblr, I have become complete trash, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, James is caught between a hot sexy rock and a hot sexy hard place, M/M, Sexual Tension, blint - Freeform, blint fluff, blint smut, emotional tension, emotional/psychological angst, flane sex, mildly rough sex, sexual release, sweaty gay pirates on a beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Begins before 3x08 and will continue into 3x09 and maybe past it. Flint and Vane are awaiting the return of Anne and Billy in Miranda's house and they end up discussing their recent losses. Vane makes a proposition to Flint and Flint accepts. All seems well, until Billy has a long-awaited confession to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

\-----------  
James laid the last of the wood in the hearth and struck a match. The dry kindling caught quickly.

Miranda’s house wasn’t cold, but he wanted the warmth the fire provided anyway; it seemed to chase away the gloom that pervaded everything he looked at.

He strode over to the kitchen table and sat down, watching as Charles Vane stood in the center of the room, thumbs tucked into his belt, eyes wondering around the room. James knew what he was seeing—dust and disheveled furniture, things long since out of place and forgotten. Some things he had not touched since Miranda’s hands last touched them, like the knocked over porcelain tea cup lying on its saucer. He had avoided this place since her death, coming here only to sleep before they had set off to begin the raids.

Vane picked up one of the black robes James had procured for the four of them.

“I understand the need to instill fear in them,” he mused, “But head scarves? It’s not as though Rogers won’t know who it is coming that caravan.”

“Then don’t wear it,” James said drolly, staring into the flames.

Vane let the piece of cloth drop back onto the table he’d plucked it from.

“Miss Guthrie is working closely with him, I hear,” he said.

James blinked and glanced over to him, unplussed at the random comment.

Vane sat down across from him at the table but said no more. James wasn’t in the mood to discuss Eleanor Guthrie, least of all to Vane. He was well aware of their past relationship and could only guess at how Vane had taken her betrayal. Then again…

“I heard what you did to her father,” James said carefully. “Brutal, even by your standards.”

Vane narrowed his eyes but the constant wisp of a smile remained on his lips as he twirled a cheroot between his fingers.

“I had little choice. Richard Guthrie’s death was deserved, though not the manner in which it happened. It was her blood they were clamoring for. I let them take his life.”

“To save her,” James finished succinctly.

Vane said nothing, allowing his silence to answer the question.

James looked back at the fire, listening to the soft hiss and cackle it made. He purposefully avoided looking at anything in particular in the house, not the tea cup, nor all the bottles and dishes in front of the window sill, nor how the dying light of the day filtered in through the window and seemed to make the dust even more visible. He tried not to get himself lost and turned back to Vane. However, the other captain seemed more lost in thought than he. Vane blinked, as though suddenly coming back to life.

“She admitted to me she came here again, to speak with Ms. Barlow about appealing to you when we were still trying to kill each other.”

It was almost humorous, the way he said, but Vane’s expression was devoid of the emotion.

“I never wanted to kill you,” said James truthfully. “At least, not really. I wanted the fort. I know now she was trying to protect you from me.”

Vane grunted a response, staring at the cheroot, one arm slung over the back of his chair.

“Is that what Miranda was trying to do as well?” he asked at length.

James lifted his eyes and looked at him directly, somewhat irritated.

“It was,” he said with a cold stare. But then he relented, not in the mood to start arguing so instead he said, “I suppose our combined stubbornness was an impediment for them both.”

The attempted joke fell short, but Vane gave him a wane smile anyway. He laid the cheroot down on the table, unlit, and rose as though suddenly uncomfortable. His eyes kept flitting around the room and James knew he wanted to ask things, say things.

“And now here we are, both deprived of our women,” he mused instead. “Although,” he added quickly when James’s eyes twitched, “I admit your loss is the greater of the two.”

There was no smugness in Vane’s statement, no hint that he was trying to bait James. Why the hell was he dwelling on this?

“Is there something on your mind, Charles?”

Vane shrugged, eyes finally landing back on James.

“It’s on both our minds, our losses. Just figured I’d give voice to it. Anne and Billy won’t be back from scouting for a while; it’s not as though you’re exactly the most entertaining host. Though I suppose we could talk about the highs and lows of England’s economy instead.”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at James, trying to relieve the tension, perhaps even to drive away the gloom that still clung to the house. James frowned.

“I’m moving on,” he replied. “I suggest you do the same. If you’re going to spend the upcoming campaign brooding over her, then perhaps you need to take time to clear your head.”

Now Vane chuckled, running his finger over the wooden railing that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room. He rubbed at the dust that collected on his fingertips.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he said pointedly, the smile gone. He flashed his azure, hawk-like eyes to James and flopped back down in the chair.

James grunted and rolled his eyes.

“You know, when I wasn’t with Eleanor I made use of the brothel,” Vane continued. “Quite frequently, actually, especially after we would fight. All the times over all the years I’ve been there…and I never once recall seeing you there.”

“I was with Miranda. I’m not inclined to those temptations. I thought that was obvious by now.”

Vane leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, smile very distinctly smug now. James narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“Spit it out, whatever the hell it is you’re swimming around,” James demanded quietly.

Vane sighed, losing the smile. His expression returned to the somber, albeit distracted one he’d worn earlier.

“I don’t think you’ll accept it, if I simply say it,” he said. “Not you. And I don’t blame you; I wouldn’t either.”

James felt his anger stoked. He didn’t like all this cryptic bullshit. It wasn’t like Vane, and what’s more, he felt inklings in his gut as to what Vane was getting at. It was the same feeling he’d gotten when he sat down across from Woodes Rogers and Rogers had dropped Thomas’s name, just like that.

Vane was watching him as though studying him, azure eyes moving up and down over him. It felt too close, too intimate; a violation.

And yet his heart beat quickened involuntarily at the gaze.

Then Vane got up and swiftly strode over to him, one hand wrapping itself intimately around the side of his face as his lips pressed themselves into his own.

With a muffled cry James jumped to his feet, pushed Vane back, and sent his fist into the other’s jaw. Vane reeled back, face jerking sideways. He raised a hand to his lip and pulled it back, speckled with blood. He grinned.

“Didn’t think that way would work, either. Was worth a try, though.”

“Are you fucking mad?” James spat, chest heaving and his hand still balled into a fist at his side.

“Jesus, look at you,” said Vane, ignoring the question. “Either I’m very wrong, or very right about you.”


	2. Chapter 2

He looked at James with entirely new eyes. James was familiar with that particular look from another man. No. What the fuck?

He had never known Vane as the type to use something so personal against an opponent, and besides, the two of them were closer now than they had ever been, so James quickly discounted the possibility that Vane wanted to use his sexuality against him. Was he trying to prove a point? About what? Only moments ago they had been talking about the women in their lives…

Ah. That had been a lead-in conversation to this. James looked at him evenly, willing himself to calm down. Vane kept his distance but remained standing where he was. James noticed how his chest was also rising and falling rapidly, his eyes still looking at James *that* way, curious and hungry.

Again, he felt a physical reaction to Vane, this time a twinge of something resembling desire.

He took in Charles Vane in a new light, remembering how he looked with his shirt off, how attractive he actually was with those hawk-like eyes and long, thick hair; the tint of his well-tanned skin.

“You can’t be serious,” he said at last, half as a question and half as a statement.

Vane flashed another grin, wiping the blood from his hand onto his shirt. He squared his shoulders and tucked his thumbs into his belt again and walked up to James.

“Don’t I look serious?” he asked.

James still wasn’t convinced.

“Why here? Why now?”

“Obviously I couldn’t approach you when we were working against one another. And even before that, when I first met you, something told me you’d never go for it, not then. Something told me, ‘This one is guarding himself.’ Against what, I wasn’t certain.”

Vane stopped, licking his lips very slowly, tongue flicking out and catching a drop of blood. James stared at the motion before he could stop himself.

“And now?” he asked Vane, tone neutral. “What do you think I’m guarding myself against?”

He hadn’t wanted to ask the question and didn’t really want Vane’s answer. Vane could never know, not really. But he was intensely curious as to what the other man thought.

“Hm, honestly, I’m still not sure,” Vane replied. “But you’ve changed recently. I know you well enough to see that much.”

“And you thought what, exactly?” asked James, pushing as much irritation into his voice as he could. “That you would wait until we were alone in here and sweep me off my feet?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

“What do you want Charles, a fucking trophy?”

He was pleased with the anger that seeped into the question, but it was fleeting, because Charles grinned again and stepped up closer to him.

“I told you if anyone was going to make a trophy out of you, it should be me.”

“You— ”

James never got the chance to finish his sentence because Vane moved in and kissed him again, harder this time, his chest and legs brushing against James’s own. James jerked back again, yet Vane was not gripping him in any way; his arms were at his sides. They broke apart easily enough but Vane did not step back and neither did James.

James felt a new kind of adrenaline pumping through him now, fueling parts of his body that had been starved for some time. The blood rose to his cheeks and to his cock. Before he quite knew what he was doing he curled his fingers through Vane’s thick and wild mass of hair and pulled him in for another kiss, this time pushing his tongue against the other man’s lips.

Vane opened his mouth and let Flint’s tongue probe inside. He pushed them both backwards and Flint was powerless to stop the motion unless he broke away, which he did not. His back thudded against the wall, causing glasses to clatter together. Vane tore at the open neck of his shirt, fingers digging in to his bare chest. James felt his cock stiffen as Vane grinded in to him, rolling his hips until James could feel the other man’s erection pressed up against his leg. He stifled a moan. Vane was overtaking him, controlling him, and he could only allow it for so long.

With a grunt he grasped Vane’s coat in both hands and shoved him back. Vane stumbled for an instant, giving James enough time to push* him* back, right into the table’s edge. The piece of furniture scooted backwards with the impact. Vane fumbled to shove a chair out of his way. James didn’t let up, kissing and raking his teeth over Vane’s throat and stretching out his shirt to get at the dark flesh of his smooth chest. Vane gripped his head in both hands, running a palm over James’s close-cropped hair.

Vane kept trying to kiss his lips, to push himself off the edge of the table but James wouldn’t allow it, pushing him back so that he leaned against the edge. James stretched his shirt until it tore and he found a nipple, sucking on it until it was hard.

“Nuuhh, fuck you,” Vane rasped out, voice thick with desire.

James paused to look up at him through his brows, lips parted and panting.

“You started this little game,” he admonished.

Vane gave him a sneer that wasn’t a sneer at all, then reached down and started unbuckling his trousers. James stepped back and watched him, knowing his own eyes were heavy and that there was no going back now. Briefly he considered putting a halt to this, but there was no real reason to other than his own hesitation and reservations.

And why should he have any at this point? If sex with Vane would further solidify their allegiance it seemed like there was nothing to lose, at least for the near future. But even as the thought occurred to James he knew he was avoiding the confession he had to make to himself: Vane turned him on, was seducing him, and Jesus, had it stirred something up inside him that was going to boil over. To rein all that in now—he wasn’t sure if he even could.

He pulled his shirt off, hardly taking his eyes off the other captain as Vane stripped down in front of him, revealing more and more of tight, well-contoured muscle under all the layers.

James kicked off his boots and took off his pants and Vane was on him again in one swift motion, pressing his cock into James’s belly. James moaned. He looked down at the rock-hard and hot organ against him but before he could touch it Vane was kneeling down and taking James’s cock in his hand. His azure eyes flicked up to catch James’s gaze, wicked smile dancing in them, before he opened his mouth.

James’s inhaled sharply as Vane’s mouth closed over him. He spread his legs to steady himself and he grabbed a hold of the top of Vane’s hair, clinging to it as Vane’s hot and wet mouth slid over his head and half his shaft, tongue caressing when it could.

“Oh fuck,” he half mumbled, eyes closing as everything was transformed into nothing but the intense touch and feeling Vane gave his cock. Vane pressed his mouth down farther, almost to James’s scrotum, then pulled off and licked his head. James dropped his gaze, pulling back on Vane’s hair so that Vane was forced to look up at him.

“Christ,” he muttered. Vane looked as helpless as he himself felt, eyes glazed over and lips red and swollen already. Vane licked down the length of his shaft, hand coming to fondle his balls. James hummed deep in his throat. He could scarcely remember the last time he had felt this; the hot tingle that spread out from his gut, the throbbing sensation in his cock, the way everything in his sight swam pleasantly as though he were floating.

Then Vane left his cock completely, the air of the room hitting him and giving him a slight chill. James was confused until he saw Vane dig into his clothes and produce a small bottle of oil. He uncorked it with his teeth, eyes staring at James as he turned the bottle and let its contents spill out onto his fingers. Then he dropped the bottle and reached behind himself.

James’s mouth went cotton-dry as he watched Vane fill himself. The man was fucking limber to be able to do it, and do it well. James watched his ribs stretch, cock bobbing rigidly, as Vane opened himself, grunting softly. He was shocked at Vane’s complete lack of any embarrassment whatsoever. James came up to him and pushed his lips roughly into Vane’s. Vane moaned. James grabbed hold of his arm, feeling the muscles flex as Vane opened himself.

“Fuck me,” he rasped into James’s ear, voice even lower than usual.

James pushed on his shoulder and Vane eagerly turned around. James pushed him towards the table again and Vane took the hint, bending himself over its edge and exposing his ass to James. If possible his cock grew even harder at the sight of all the flesh below Vane’s tan line, the mounds of his ass and the beautiful cleft between.

James took hold of his cock, spreading Vane’s cheek with his other hand and lined himself up. He pushed in a little too rapidly and he heard Vane hiss. He paused halfway in and let Vane adjust, then he pushed the rest of the way in. He clenched his teeth as Vane wrapped around his cock, a pulsating jolt of pleasure running through him.

“Oh, fuck.”

James tapped Vane’s calf with a bare foot and Vane spread his legs further. James began fucking him, gently shaking Vane’s body beneath him. The sight of Charles Vane so submissive under him was almost enough to make him cum without further stimulation.

Vane braced himself up on his forearms. James wrapped his fingers around his hips, pulling Vane into him. Vane could no longer suppress the sounds that rose from his throat. James gripped him tighter and thrust his cock harder into the other captain. Vane loosened up just slightly around him, allowing James to fuck him easier. Pleasure flooded his senses like liquid syrup. No, he really couldn’t remember the last time very clearly, because *this* was phenomenal.

“Christ,” muttered Vane. “More.”

More?

James was slightly in awe of the request but the heels of his feet were beginning to ache, and he could tell Vane’s arms were chafing painfully against the wood of the table. Breathless, he pulled out of Vane.

“Come on,” he said.

Vane pushed off the table and followed him, practically on his heels, into the bedroom. James knew exactly what he was going to do to him here.

“On your belly,” he ordered.

By now Vane was too far gone to be smug or even make suggestions of his own, it seemed. He looked at James as though he were begging to be devoured.

Vane climbed up over the bed sheets and did as he was bade, sliding onto his stomach and pushing his legs out as much as he could.

James climbed up behind him on his knees and pushed himself back inside Vane, scarcely giving the other man time to adjust before fucking him again.

The second time of sliding inside Vane felt even better than the first as Vane took him in easily now, all slick and hot and wanting and God, did James want to give it to him.

James pressed the palms of his hands over the small of Vane’s back, fingers wrapping themselves over his ribs. James leaned his weight into his palms, granting him more leverage to fuck. He slammed into Vane unmercifully now, eliciting a moan out of both of them simultaneously. Vane muttered something else incomprehensible, the side of his face shoved into the bed. James kept up his furious pace, listening to Vane’s breathing stutter each time his balls hit against his ass. The familiar, singular heat was rising rapidly in him now, building from his stomach and the base of his spine and drowning out every other sense.

He fucked Vane until his own back was sweating and he could scarcely breathe, the heat coming to an unbearable boil inside him. Below him Vane’s face was screwed up as much as James had ever seen it. Then James’s breath came shorter and shorter until finally everything boiled over and crashed over him. His cock exploded and he climaxed with a low moan. He dug his fingers into Vane’s ribs, eyes rolling up as he closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him. Time seemed to disappear for the next several seconds, until Vane blurted out a loud but raw “Fuck!”

James dismounted him and collapsed next to him, struggling to catch his breath. Vane rolled over to his side, then struggled to flip onto his back. They both turned to each other. James struggled to keep the grin off his face. Vane flashed him a rare toothy grin before gazing up at the ceiling.

“Christ, if only I had known sooner,” he said.

James snorted. “Shutup,” he said with no real anger. Vane’s thinly veiled admission of how good it had been kept him grinning to himself. After another moment to gather his senses back, he rose off the bed and carefully stood, legs feeling very much like ropes instead of legs. They both returned to the main room and gathered their clothes but left them bundled up and instead but on the all-black, tunic-like garments in preparation for the attack on Roger’s caravan.

James was hungry and found Vane was too so he gathered them what food was left in the house and they ate it greedily. James made the mistake of looking up at one point to find Vane smirking at him. James frowned, pretending he wasn’t amused, though of course he was.

Everything with Charles was easier after that. Before, there had still been some lingering, not-quite-explainable tension between them, he now realized, which was now gone. Perhaps the tension had always been sexual, hovering between them even when sex was the farthest thing from both their minds and only adding to the turmoil between them. James figured that must have been the case, because now the two of them were conversing almost like friends.

However, by the time another hour had passed with no word from Anne or Billy—and it being near noon, when the caravan was supposed to depart—his coupling with Vane was pushed to the back of his thoughts, his mind once again pulled into a pensive state.

It didn’t stay that way long. He almost jumped, startled, when Vane’s voice was practically at his ear by the window.

“You’re like a fucking fuse, ready to go off any moment,” he said.

“And you’re so relaxed, with what’s coming?” James said with sarcasm.

Vane leaned up against a mounted shelf, his face just out of reach of the pale sunlight filtering in through the window. James thought it made his feature even more hawk-like.

“Course not,” said Vane. “But you *did* just fuck me,” he said between a grin. “Not something so soon forgotten. Apparently, you need another round.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James's encounter with Vane lasts longer than he expected.
> 
> ...Blint is still coming, bear with me. :)

“Tuh. I think not.”

James turned from the window and went to the opposite wall to grab more kindling for the fire. He’d had enough of Vane for the time being; they both needed to mentally prepare for what was ahead. Getting the gems and thwarting Roger’s plan was of utmost importance. And James had to admit that have Jack Rackham’s particular mind could prove just as valuable to their cause. Not to mention that Spain would most likely be attacking them as well, something they still weren’t’ quite ready for just yet…

He began thinking on that when suddenly everything came to halt when Vane’s hand grabbed his arm. James’s eyes shot to his.

“Like I said,” said Vane with that hungry look again, “If anyone’s going to make a trophy of you…”

He trailed off and lifted his brows suggestively. The meaning was clear to James, and for a few seconds he forgot everything about a war. That proposition, however, meant letting Vane dominate him.

“You think I’d let you?” James said, looking at him coolly.

Vane seemed either surprised or confused, James couldn’t discern which. Either way he let the corner of his mouth curve upward. Vane’s eyes narrowed.

“That a challenge?”

“No. Now move.”

James attempted to brush past him but Vane stepped in front of him again, inches away. He didn’t move to grab him in any way but the hungry look was still in those azure eyes.

“You think you’re the only one who needs a release?” he said. “That months at a time of nothing but scheming and trying to survive and getting a few minutes’ privacy to pull at your own cock doesn’t get tedious after a while?”

James hadn’t expected that response. He could not argue against those things; all crewmen experienced them, just as he knew why they were always so adamant about whoring when they got the chance. But not him, and evidently not Vane for some time either.

The temptation rose in him stronger this time but still he fought it.

“Either one of them could return any moment…”

“Doubtful. It will take at least a couple hours to scout all those paths, then maybe thirty more minutes to make the return trip here We still have time.”

Vane was still inches away from him, his breath and lips enticing James again. Finally he relented. Why the hell not? Clearly Vane wanted to make a game out of this, so James decided he’d simply not let him win it.

“Hmm,” was all James said. He changed direction and headed back towards the bedroom, not bothering to look behind him to see the inevitable smirk on Vane’s face.

They undressed again and again Vane kissed and touched in a rugged sort of way which suited James perfect; anything else and he wouldn’t have allowed it, not with Vane.

His cock was hard soon enough; the blood flowing hot and his mouth dry again. He grinned darkly when he saw the brown-yellow bruises forming over Vane’s ribs.

“Fuck you,” Vane whispered as a retort, though all it did was make James’s cock twitch.

When Vane pushed him towards the bed he allowed it, let Vane hover over him to flick a tongue over one nipple then the other, then teeth. James hissed sharply but didn’t stop him. Vane’s tongue traveled lower, past his breast and to his stomach where James was slightly more sensitive. The contact tickled like hell but also sent sexual chills over his arms. He gripped Vane’s hair as Vane moved lower and slower, tonguing his belly button and then finding the light, reddish hair that grew beneath it. James was even more sensitive there, as Vane’s tongue hesitated just above his balls, hands coming to grip his bare thighs. James writhed under the sensation.

Vane took his precious time, finally pushing James’s shaft against his stomach and sucking at his balls. James closed his eyes. This wasn’t so bad. Vane’s touch wasn’t anything he hadn’t experienced before with either a man or a woman, though he was slightly disappointed the other pirate captain wasn’t rough as before.

Still he could hardly complain once Vane’s lips found his cock proper, licking over the super-sensitive tip of his head and coating his flesh in hot and wet kisses. He was rock-hard now, the warm ache coming back again.

Vane then lifted up, eyes lidded. He ran a palm over his mouth slowly and sensually, staring at James through his brows and making his breath catch at the sight. Then he pushed on James’s shins and James crooked and spread his legs, heart beating faster in anticipation. Vane wetted and inserted a finger. The violation made James’s stomach flip and suddenly he wasn’t certain he was prepared for this. Still he let Vane push in further, his muscles tensing everywhere.

“God, you’re tight,” said Vane not without appreciation. James’s fingers curled around the bed sheets as Vane wiggled his finger, sending red-hot jolts up into him.

“Wait, stop,” James blurted out. He was not ready for this, not yet. It had been too long, and yet he’d felt so certain just moments ago.

“Are you certain?” asked Vane. He quickly pushed his middle finger in James’s hole, cutting off the protest on James’s lips. Another jolt went through him at this second violation and James allowed it, feeling his need grow despite the undercurrent of panic.

“Fuck,” he muttered, swallowing hard. Vane all but leered at him this time. He wiggled and moved both fingers inside fast and hard and James stifled a gasp.

“Fucking hell.”

He let his head drop and his eyes close, spreading his legs even further. The panic began to die down as his system was flooded with sharp but absolutely delicious pangs, the likes of which he had not felt for a decade.

He felt some humility creep up in him as he imagined what he looked like, spread out like a whore and Charles Vane his eager and demanding costumer. Fuck. The blood rushed to his cheeks, but also to his cock.

“You like that?” came a deep and throaty voice.

James hummed in reply and felt a third finger pressing against him for entry. He bit down on his bottom lip as Vane struggled for access, wiggling his other two fingers furiously until the third slid through.

“Jesus,” James said, raising his head to see. Vane’s hand gripped his thigh, keeping his leg pushed out. His expression was pure lust, lips parted as he stared down at his machinations. James gripped the sheets until his nails dug into his palms. Damnit, he was reacting like a fucking virgin. It had been far too long, and what was worse was that he had a feeling Vane was realizing the same and using it to his advantage.

With all three fingers inside Vane fucked into him and James could do nothing but whimper against it. Vane shifted and crawled up over him, fingers still firmly in place, until their faces were almost level. James’s hand shot up and gripped the back of his hair, needing a different sort of anchor besides the sheets. Vane winced but tried to grin through it.

“Do you like what I’m doing to you? Say it,” he demanded.

“Fuck. You,” James forced out instead.

Vane grunted and fucked him quicker, the tip of his middle finger now brushing against the most sensitive of all places and causing James to moan loudly, bucking his hips up.

“Stop, slow down,” said James, pulling harder on Vane’s hair until his head went back.

“No,” said Vane, ignoring it. “Tell me. You like it.”

“I like it,” said James. He forced his eyes open and glared at Vane, fingers curling around his hair to inflict maximum pain until Vane finally cursed him and shoved at the wrist holding him.

The fingers stilled inside him and came out. The sudden emptiness he felt in their wake was ten times worse. Frustrated, James grabbed him again and pulled him into a fierce and hard kiss, which Vane greedily reciprocated, rock-hard cock rubbing against his own.

“Fuck me already,” said James. He needed this too badly to even let his humiliation bother him. His cock was aching and his body simmering. He arched up like a cat against Vane, but Vane pushed him down hard into the mattress. He lifted up and moved to straddle James, taking the captain’s wrists and putting them up behind his head.

“Stay like that,” he demanded.

Flint’s breath stuttered at the command. Christ, was he really going to let Vane do this to him? He already knew the answer. From some dark pit deep within him arose the need to simply let go, to allow someone else to hold the reins and carry the burden of it all; of each and every decision, even of just *thinking.* And now that Vane had shoved him in those waters he found he was ready to swim in them, if only temporarily. Even so, he’d never let Vane know.

“You’re an asshole,” Flint hissed at him as Vane shoved his arms up over his head.

Yet by now they both knew what the other liked, and the insult only made Vane grin.

Vane straightened on his knees, making a show of stroking his cock to James, who watched with a growing lust. Vane was a good length, the veins on his erection showing as he touched himself. James’s fingers clenched and unclenched from the sheets, legs pushing impatiently against Vane’s.

“You want it?” Vane asked in a husky voice that made James strangle off a deep hum in response. He lifted his eyes to look Vane in the face.

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” he said, sounding as bored as possible. Vane’s mouth curved upward. He scooted up further until his cock filled up the other man’s vision. Despite himself James licked his lips as he glanced up to Vane, who gave a quick nod.

“In your mouth, he said.

James moved, shuffling up against the columns of the headboard as Vane pushed himself up further, until his cock was nearly against James’s lips. He wrapped a hand around it. The contact was like a dose of liquor or opium, a small, liquid-like heat flowing through him again.

He didn’t obey Vane immediately and instead pulled hard over his slick head, rubbing his thumb over the tip and looking up to see its effect.

“Nuuhh,” was all Vane said, eyes closing slightly. James grinned openly at the small victory.

Vane opened his eyes—now glassy—and thrusted his cock forward.

“Get on with it.”

Still grinning, James took hold of him again and slid his mouth over Vane’s shaft. Vane gripped the top of the headboard with both hands and groaned softly.

He moved the tiniest amount inside James’s mouth and James felt everything in him constrict and coil in a delicious way. He gripped Vane’s ass, listening to the soft sounds coming from his throat. It was nice, but his need was for what Vane was deliberately delaying in giving him. Just when Vane started fucking into him James pulled off, tongue flicking once over Vane’s warm and salty head.

“Fuck me,” he demanded. Vane tried to smirk through a lust-filled delirium. He slinked down over James and James felt his skin flood with a sharp heat as Vane aligned himself between James’s legs. He pushed in and the violation caused James’s breath to catch. He let slip a tiny moan as Vane forced himself all the way in. James closed his eyes, heedless of how he looked as though he were blissing off into oblivion.

The bed and room and even Vane evaporated and he felt only the intensity and fullness of the moment, shocked at the long-dead feeling of another man deep inside him. He also felt the undertow pulling on him, threatening to drown him in memories, and he instantly opened his yes.

Everything spiraled back into existence. If Vane had noticed his momentary lapse he didn’t indicate it, his blue eyes heavy as he bracketed his arms over James and slowly—very slowly—pulled himself out then pushed back in again.

He repeated the motion over and over, filling James and sliding in easier each time but still not giving him what he craved.

“Damn you,” James muttered, eyeing the other captain with aggravation.

“Tell me how you want it,” Vane growled, lips hovering over his own. James took in the scent of sweat and cigar smoke and musk. He tried not to pant. He half-sneered, half-smiled at Vane.

“You know how I want it,” he slurred out despite his best efforts not to.

He raised his hands up to Vane’s throat and wrapped them around the other’s neck, not squeezing but making sure Vane understood his urgency in the matter, the only way he dared to show it.

“Mmm,” said Vane, suddenly thrusting hard inside him. It lit up James’s cock and the pit of his stomach something fierce. He dug his fingers into the back of Vane’s neck.

Vane fucked him properly, working into a steady rhythm that had James bucking up to meet his thrusts. He eventually let himself relax into it, noting that Vane seemed to be struggling as much as he was not to lose himself entirely in their coupling. He would fix a hard, glassy gaze on James when he wasn’t sucking hard at his neck or forcing his tongue inside James’s mouth.

It wasn’t loving. It wasn’t tender. Yet as the pressure built up within him he knew unequivocally he didn’t want those things from Vane. Only the brief comfort and release it brought.

James whined, pulling hard at Vane’s thick hair until Vane began slamming into him, cock penetrating James until it hit him perfectly, causing his body to buck up into it and finally attaining what he’d sought after.

The sensation erased everything else, sending him violently close to his climax…and then Vane pulled out.

Breathlessly, Vane still hovered over him and James cursed.

“What the fuck?” he breathed out.

“Told you…I’d make a trophy…out of you,” Vane gasped with a grin.

That was it. A quick flash of pure anger took hold of James and he reached up to fight Vane off him, pushing at him and balling up his fist to sock one right in Vane’s face, but as they grappled Vane managed to grab hold of James’s erection. He pulled furiously. James instantly stopped his assault, body responding immediately by arching and writhing, fingers curling around the sheets again as suddenly he was at the edge again and this time Vane sent him over it.

His orgasm spilled out from seemingly every part of him, manifesting itself out from his cock. He forced himself to watch as Vane shook him hard, his cum dripping over Vane’s clenched fist.

He let out a strangled moan and collapsed back onto the bed. Vane let go and took up his own cock, spilling out onto James’s stomach and doubling the sticky substance already there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blint is here finally. I probably stretched the timeline a bit here, with almost all of this chapter taking place after the attack on Roger's caravan but before Jack and Anne arrive at the beach in 3 08.

\------------  
Once the afterglow wore off both men grew quiet and pensive again, thoughts turning to their situation.

Anne returned first, then Billy shortly thereafter with news of Featherstone’s man. Everything progressed quickly after that. They readied the horses and loaded their pistols, then set out to retrieve the gems and Jack Rackham. The raid went as smoothly as it could have, with Vane blowing off one of the wagon wheels and sending the entire carriage careening into the ground. Once the chest was secure he insisted that he and Billy go on ahead of them while they freed Jack from his chains.

James saw how desperate Charles was to aid Jack but he was very uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Vane behind.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Vane said, struggling to shatter the lock that held Jack in place.

“*Right* behind us?” James asked dubiously.

This time Vane paused to look directly at him, sweating and out of breath—again.

“Yeah,” he said.

James found himself suddenly fearful, but he pushed it away from himself. Charles was right. They needed to move.

He and Billy quickly secured the large chest, looping ropes through either side of its handles. They mounted their horses and picked up the chest with the ropes and departed, leaving Vane behind with Anne and Jack and the overturned carriage.

James held tight to the chest. It was difficult for them both, trying to steer the horses and keep the chest from knocking into their legs at the same time. Once they were a good distance from the road they both stopped. James dropped the chest, the palm of his hand sore and tight. He looked up saw Billy shaking his hand painfully.

“Here,” said James, tearing through a section of his head scarf. He motioned at Billy’s hand. Billy lifted it and James wrapped the fabric around it and knotted it.

“Come on,” he said, climbing back up on his mount.

“What about you?” Billy asked. James looked at him. Billy was giving him that concerned look, pale blue eyes flicking to his hand. James was always puzzled by the bosun’s level of concern over him ever since he’d come back to them after the business with Hume.

“I’m fine. We’re nearly there,” he replied.

Billy nodded but James saw the frown lines on the corner of his mouth as he turned away. Shaking his head away from that, they picked the chest back up between them and continued on down to the beach.

They made it to the beach safely, with no sign of Roger’s men following them. They led their horses down a gently sloping hill, where the terrain changed from lush green to white grainy sand.

“Let’s move it closer to the shoreline so they can load it into the launch, when it arrives,” said James. Billy nodded, and together they hauled the chest towards the open ocean and sat it down still well above the tide line.

Billy then flopped down on top of the chest, sweating and out of breath. James joined him, sitting on the bulky chest’s other end. Billy took off his head scarf.

“These things are fucking hot as hell,” he quipped, tossing it onto the sand.

James took his off as well, feeling instant relief over his head. He wiped his brow with a sleeve. Then he reached into a fold in the black fabric that served as a pocket and pulled out a canteen. He offered it to Billy. Billy eyed it.

“I’ve got my own, thank you,” he said, bringing it to bear and taking a long swallow.

James watched him take the drink, eyes lingering, before frowning and turning back to the hill they’d come from.

“They should be here by now,” he muttered.

“Rackham looked injured,” said Billy. “Probably slowed them down.”

James glanced over to him and caught Billy’s eye. His expression told James they were thinking the same thing: More soldiers had arrived and the pirates had gotten caught in a skirmish. He said nothing and they continued to watch the hill. James felt his anxiety grow as the minutes passed. The hot sun beat down over him, doubly warm due to the black he wore. He uncapped his canteen and poured some of its contents over his head. The water wasn’t cold anymore but wasn’t warm either. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his head and down his face, glad for the brief refreshment.

He saw Billy watching him out of the corner of his eye. When he turned his head Billy blinked quickly and looked away, that frown etched on the corner of his mouth again. For some reason it bothered James, enough to ask.

“What’s the matter?”

A quick flash of pale blue eyes towards him.

“Nothing. Just curious, I suppose, what transpired between you and Vane at the house. Did you play a round of cards? Clean the dishes?”

He gave James a small smirk. James wasn’t sure what to make of the inquiry—or the smirk.

He licked his lips and looked at the hill again.

“We waited.”

It was curt, perhaps too curt, but he said no more. Billy made a ‘tuh’ sound, which sounded distinctly dissatisfied to James’s ear. He slowly turned his head and eyed the bosun.

“We did not play a round of cards,” said James, “and we most certainly did *not* clean the dishes. We spoke a little, here and there. What of it?”

Again, those blue eyes flashed to his before looking away. Billy took a sip from his canteen.

“As I said, nothing. Just curious,” he replied in the same curt tone James had just used. Now that *did* bother him.

He’d been down this road with Billy before, though usually Billy needed no prodding to speak what was on his mind, especially where his captain was concerned. James recalled their latest little spat, when Billy had, for the umpteenth time, criticized his motives, claiming that he was aiming too high and convincing everyone that they could win the war against England. James had taken the barb in stride, used as he was to Billy’s unpredictable confrontations. **Everyone’s wrong but you,** he’d said snidely while the two of them stood by the helm. Billy hadn’t backed down, fixing him with those eyes that sometimes reminded James of a late afternoon sky, clear and deep and flawless…

James shook his head. Jesus, his mind always went off on a tangent when he thought of Billy. He turned towards the bosun sitting next to him, unable to not prod Billy about his curiosity where he and Vane were concerned.

“Curious about what, exactly?” he asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

When Billy looked at him he blinked, brow furrowed as though caught off guard. James had tipped his chin up at him, reminding himself of that time nearly a year ago when they had stood in Richard Guthrie’s estate and he had asked Billy point-blank about what the men thought of him, of what Billy had thought of him.

He remembered then the confused and suddenly unsure look on Billy’s face, how those afternoon-sky eyes had regarded him with more confusion than what James had deemed reasonable at the time.

That look had returned to Billy’s face.

“Jesus, forget it,” he said defensively. “Sorry I spoke about it.”

They fell back into silence again. James tried to think about Vane and for some reason his mind scrambled to recall their close encounters at the house, of how he was certain it had changed their relationship, made them better partners, and now he had left Vane in the middle of the fucking road, at the mercy of any and all of Roger’s men that had more than likely already been on the way there…

So much he had shared with Vane; The looks and touches and God, how it all had felt, having another man take him once again, even roughly and teasingly. He could still smell Vane if he concentrated hard enough.

And yet it the rest of him remained untouched, and perhaps that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit to himself…

He cut off that thought and instead considered getting up and going back for Vane, Jack, and Anne and was nearly ready to do just that when Billy’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“You were with him, weren’t you?”

James stilled and blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Billy was leaning his elbows over his legs, staring hard at the ground. His necklaces dangled in the air off his chest.

“You, were,* with* him.”

He pronounced each word as though speaking to a dumb man.

James felt his eye twitch. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Billy, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that I think you fucked him. Or he fucked you. Or both.”

“Billy—“

“Vane is one of the few people I know who smoke those fucking cheroots. And you smell like it, like *him.* I noticed it when we stopped and you bandaged my hand.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Whatever happened or did not happen hardly concerns you,” James retorted, struggling to keep his voice even. He couldn’t quite look Billy in the eye, a cluster of sudden emotions confounding him. He rose and turned towards the sea, pulling out a small spyglass. He felt more than saw Billy stand as well.

“Go on then, call me a liar,” Billy said curtly. There was a great defensiveness to his tone and James clenched his jaw together, refusing to face the other man and instead scanning the open ocean for signs of the Walrus. He could feel his pulse threading through his veins. Billy was aggravating him but also making him uneasy, and he did not understand why. He felt the bosun close behind him. James finally turned. Billy’s arms were crossed, back stiff. The afternoon-sky eyes that stared him down were full of resolve—and anger. Anger?

The first thing that crossed James’s mind was that Billy couldn’t accept him with another man. If so, was he going to leave the crew? The thought of Billy leaving him made his chest tighten.

“What is it, Billy? What is this about?” he dared to ask.

“We’re preparing for a fucking war here, one we’re not even likely to win, and you have time to fuck Vane? A piece of work, you are!”

Barely concealed fury was in Billy’s face, his voice, so much so that it took James aback for a beat. Billy turned, uncrossing his arms and shaking his head. Something was amiss here, James knew. It was not logical for Billy to react so…personally to anything he did. He was not even this upset when he had questioned James about Miranda all those months ago. Furthermore his accusation held little water; he and Charles had been waiting; there had been nothing of import to do at the time, no way their intimacy had interfered with anything related to their planning.

Yet even as James recounted the logistics of it all, the sharp pang of guilt and shame that jabbed at him overwhelmed his reason. Before he quite knew it, he was defending his actions and not bothering to remain calm about it. He stepped closer to Billy’s still-rigid back.

“It just happened; we were both tense and anxious and had nothing to keep our minds occupied…”

What the hell was he *doing*? James gritted his teeth and continued in a scathing tone, “…And anyway why the fuck do I need to explain myself to you? If you want to leave m—the crew—because I happen to enjoy myself with men, then just fucking say so!”

For an instant he felt the blood rise to his cheeks when his tongue had nearly slipped and said ‘me’ instead of ‘the crew.’ He hardly had time to recover, however, because Billy reeled around to face him, fury still plain on his face, eyes now stormy.

“That’s not it,” he said.

And Billy fell silent, some of the fury draining away. His shoulders sagged. He shook his head and walked away again. It was so unlike Billy to want to verbally *and* physically avoid his captain and James knew then this *was* something personal. It danced just outside the edges of his conscious; a shadow in his mind that he was afraid to pull into the light. All the past times he had pissed Billy off he rifled through his mind, the pangs growing in his chest and gut.

Yes, he had given little heed to the personal considerations of his crew members over the years, too caught up in his own plans, his own wants and needs. For the most part he didn’t give a damn about them when he should have, but with Billy…Billy was different. He had admitted to having a soft spot for the boy ever since he and Mr. Gates had taken him from the tortures of the navy. That soft spot had not dimmed in the passing years, only grown.

The shadow in his mind grew in size and shape but so did James’s wariness of it. He slowly approached Billy again, who was standing several yards away from the chest of gems and further down the beach. He forced his mind to focus.

*That’s not it.* It was a relief, to know that someone else he depended on was not going to cast him out because of his sexuality. If not that…

“What, then?” James asked. It came out rougher than he’d intended.

He heard Billy sigh, watched his shoulders rise and fall with the sound. The silence that followed lingered on to the point that James struggled to think of what else to say, what else to ask, that might diffuse the tension between them. But then Billy spoke, turning his head just enough that James could see, eyes squinting in the hot sun.

“When you came to greet me after I had returned from Hume and the Scarborough,” Billy began, “I knew your words and your embrace was all for show, that you wanted the men to see it and believe in the sincerity of it all. And yet…the *way* you performed both tasks, I let myself believe for the briefest of moments that you truly cared, that you had missed me.”

James’s heart leapt in his throat. He did care, he had missed Billy. God, how he had missed him…

“But that look, that tenderness, it was gone after that, and you were back to being you.”

James heard no anger or sarcasm in the statement but perhaps some disappointment. Billy turned and faced him fully and the sadness James saw there caused a lump to form in his throat. The shadow in his mind was dangerously close to becoming a solid, definable thing, a thing he had never expected to form fully between them, and yet Billy was forcing it into shape, forcing *him* to realize what it was.

“I do care,” James head himself say in a small voice. “Billy, I do care…”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear it,” said Billy forcefully, brows furrowing together as though he were in physical pain. He looked away and sneered, eyes flashing to James. He let out a mirthless laugh.

“The fucking sad thing is, I know you’re capable of caring. You loved Ms. Barlow, that’s no secret, not after Charlestown. And I suppose now Vane, too, is on that list to some extent anyway. So be it. I just thought…you should know…”

He stopped, and James felt rooted to the spot, scarcely breathing. Was Billy finishing that sentence, or was that it? Billy’s eyes searched his face as though the answers to his unasked questions could be found there. He had given James that look before, and always James kept his mask in place. It almost hurt to see Billy’s vulnerability. Billy, who was so very different than Vane in all the subtle ways that men should not notice about other men; the way he smelled, the amount of stubble he always carried on his face, those powerful arms, those eyes…

James swallowed, trying to force the lump in his throat away. Was Billy truly trying to say what James never thought possible? That he had only ever dreamed about? But it was painful. Billy was hurt, and of course he was the cause of it. Fucking Vane.

“Being with Vane. It meant nothing, nothing at all,” James said quickly.

Billy gave him a hard look, eyes darting all over his face. James struggled, his mind swam. Like Billy—so he thought— he could not bring himself to speak directly. A familiar self-loathing crept up from his gullet. James took another step towards him, arms dangling uselessly at his side. He was positively roasting in his clothes. It was as though he could feel every bead of sweat on his body. He could see sweat all over Billy’s face as well, dampening his chest and shirt and he wondered if it all had to do with the sun or not.

“Why would you even pretend to care about what I think in the matter?” asked Billy. James was struck by how perplexed he sounded.

“You have no reason to pretend to convince me,” he continued. “Even if I wanted to leave the crew over this, there are plenty of other choices for bosun. You don’t need me.”

“Damn you,” James exploded. “Why are you doing this?”

He hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but he was suddenly frantic to convince Billy of his worth to him. He’d taken another step closer and Billy stepped back. How he kept purposefully putting distance between them was infuriating.

“Why can’t you just accept that you’re important to me, to the crew?” James continued before Billy could reply.

He knew his mask was dropping; he saw the sudden confusion play across the bosun’s face as he tried to decipher his captain’s attitude.

“This is no ploy, Billy, I *do* care,” James said slowly, letting the rawness seep into his voice.

Billy licked his lips and sighed again, looking down at his boots, hands on his hips.

“Then why?” he asked after another bout of silence. He looked up. “Why are you like this?”

The question was so vague and so precise at the same time that James was momentarily speechless. He thought carefully before replying.

“What you ask, it requires a long and…complex answer, one that is not something I’m prepared to discuss just yet.”

He saw the anger rekindled on Billy’s features, but before Billy could object James raised his palms up, begging for calm.

“Wait a moment. Billy, I want to tell you, just not yet. I still do not know…what your intentions are. With me,” he added. He was acutely aware of the lump in his throat and the blood rushing to his face and the shame and guilt and Christ only knew what other tangled, fucked up feelings arose in him in that moment of allowing the shadow in his mind fully form at last.

He needed to hear Billy say it out loud, to be perfectly clear about it.

Billy turned his gaze out to the sea. A strong breeze filled the air around them. It gave a few seconds’ relief to James’s head and face from the sweltering sun.

His own eyes flitted back to the ocean too, but there was no sign of sails on the horizon yet. A quick glance back towards the hill revealed it was empty, too. Too long. Vane had been gone far too long.

And he found he cared much less about either Vane or his ship than he did the man standing before him and what he was about to say.

Billy let out another chuckle, but when he turned to James he looked a touch bitter and…scared?

“What does it matter?” Billy said. “Forget I ever said anything. You go get Vane, I’ll stay and guard the chest.”

Billy brushed past him as though they had been chatting about absolutely nothing. James felt a mix of anger and desperation bubble up inside him too strong and too fast. He lashed out and took hold of Billy’s thick arm, jolting him slightly.

“Damn you,” he said again.

This time Billy turned around with a cry, hands coming up to shove forcefully against James’s chest to send him stumbling backwards. Billy didn’t stop his attack and lunged forward to grab fistfuls of James’s shirt, tripping him in the process. James landed in the sand on an elbow and part of his back. Billy sunk down over him, breathing hard and wild-eyed, still clutching his shirt.

And perhaps for the first time in his life James had no instinct to fight back. He looked up into Billy’s face, saw the anger and sadness there in equal amounts and something else as well. He recognized it because it belonged to all men like him, like Vane, like Thomas. It was a thing that the rest of the world demanded they cover up and conceal at all costs and yet at the same time it could not be concealed because it simply *was.* It was desire, and James saw it struggling to escape from behind those blue eyes. He felt it in the way Billy handled him, in the tight muscles that were restraining him and pulling on him at the same time.

“Well, fight me!” Billy yelled at him, not moving an inch, his face close enough to James that James could feel his breath.

“No.”

The bosun’s brow furrowed at the response, then he let go of James and struggled to stand. James pushed himself up as Billy walked away again. He looked weak, as though he were ready to pass out.

James climbed to his feet swiftly. He could allow Billy his space, allow some of the tension between them to diffuse. Then they could resume their watch and forget anything had ever happened. Maybe he could go back to find Vane and the others. It was all terribly important, he supposed. The mission was what mattered.

Instead he let his feet propel him after Billy, boots falling into the dents in the sand Billy’s boots had made moments before.

“I held on to you so fucking tight that night,” he shouted at Billy’s back.

Billy froze. James waited with baited breath, mouth dry. He licked his lips and tasted the salt of his sweat. When Billy neither moved nor responded he continued.

“I held on to you,” he said, quieter, “But the ship was rocking too hard, and everything was so slick. And you were so fucking heavy. When you lost your footing, I tried so hard to pull you up. But I only had one hand to use, and I could hardly see you through the wind and rain, but I kept my eyes open no matter the stinging and burning. And then…”

He swallowed and wished frantically that a strong wind would pick up now so it could carry away the moisture in his eyes.

“And then you were gone. Just gone. And I shouted—no, screamed—your name but I couldn’t even hear myself. I must have clung on to the bow for several minutes after that, hoping against hope that I would spot you below, that somehow I could still save you.”

He had meant to go on but he could not. The lump in his throat was threatening everything, to consume him until he was a mess of emotion so he stopped.

Billy had scarcely moved. Now he lifted his head and turned. James’s vision blurred. He didn’t know if Billy could see it or not. He was breathing hard. Everything was uncomfortable and tight and hot and then Billy was coming towards him, neither slow nor quick.

James glanced down and gave one quick wipe over his eyes. When he looked back up Billy was there. There was no anger or fury on his face. The storm clouds in his eyes had receded, and as he reached James he reached out and grabbed his shirt again…and pulled himself to James so that he loomed over the shorter man, looking down into James’s eyes with an intimacy that was almost frightening. His forehead touched James’s and Billy let out a long-suffering sigh, fists clutching at his shirt.

James couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped from his throat. He raised his hands and wrapped them around either of Billy’s taunt arms, warm flesh gripping warm flesh as he tried to steady himself, suddenly feeling weak all over.

Billy half held him, half clung to him as though doing the same. They remained like so for several long minutes. Instead of feeling awkward James felt himself relaxing bit by bit. He listened to Billy’s breathing as it slowed and steadied, watched as his chest rose and fell. Gradually Billy’s fists relaxed and he planted his palms flat against James’s chest instead. James knew he could feel his heart beat; it was wild despite his outer calm.


	6. Chapter 6

Another gust of wind swept over the beach and Billy pulled back, eyes gentle as he looked at his captain.

“I’m sorry,” James said. “For not being strong enough to hold on. And for everything else I’ve done. I know I’m not the easiest man to get along with.”

A gradual grin graced Billy’s face. He chuckled. This time it was mirthful.

“You really are a piece of work,” he said again, teasingly this time. James suddenly felt light as a feather as Billy smiled at him--at *him*-- as though his burdens were lifted and his darkness was receding back with the tide at their feet. But before he could truly embrace the feeling the moment passed and Billy sobered, flecks of pain returning to his eyes.

“And Charles Vane?”

“Just a way to pass the time, I promise you.”

James made sure to hold Billy’s gaze, letting the other man see there was no lie there. Billy finally gave him a nod. Then his eye caught something out to sea. James turned. There were sails coming from the west, more than just sails; it was the Walrus. He didn’t need the spyglass to recognize her make and shape and the way DeGroot sailed her.

“Good,” said Billy with relief. “That’s one less worry. But Vane…”

“Should have been back by now. Something’s gone wrong,” said James. He strode back over to the gem chest, checking its locks. Then he picked up his discarded head scarf and tucked it into his belt. He looked over at the horses and considered riding out to see what had happened. Billy read his mind.

“You can’t. Most likely they ran into redcoats. We need to make sure the chest gets aboard the ship before Roger’s men find us as well.”

James sighed and reluctantly agreed. He frowned deeply, forced to admit to himself that he was genuinely worried for Vane. He didn’t realize that he had already made space in his mind for the two of them to become more than just necessary allies to one another.

He had been thinking of John Silver and their new partnership. That accomplishment still shocked him, and by comparison a partnership with Charles seemed much more easy. Especially now…

And yet as the images of the two of them together flashed through his mind again they paled to images of Billy Bones. Billy, whom he had never been with and had suppressed his own feelings towards for so many years, was now within reach of him.

Billy, who had time and again risked his life for his captain’s, lied to the crew, done James’s bidding even against common sense. And now James knew why, understood the breadth and scope of it and it took his breath away.

Billy, whom he had a soft spot for. No, that was an insult to the way the bosun made him feel, a great understatement. Billy was…

He shook his head. That particular mind-shadow he absolutely refused to allow to form; it was too much, too soon. And too terrifying.

“Captain.”

Billy’s voice broke through his reverie. James turned. Billy was sitting on the chest again, this time facing the sea and the approaching Walrus. He was looking for James to join him. James figured the ship wouldn’t be close enough to drop anchor for another twenty or so minutes. He re-joined Billy on the chest. Billy had drenched himself with water, soaking his chest and shirt and James tried to ignore what the sight of it did to his groin.

“When I was in the navy,” Billy said, “about a year before you found me, I sailed on a different ship called the Eros.”

He flashed a look to James. James knew the Greek word well. He filed it away for now, suddenly very keen on Billy’s words.

“The captain and first mate were jolly men and usually fair to the rest of us, even when it came to punishments,” said Billy. “Before that, on my first ship after the gangs took me I had a hell of a time. I was beaten, whipped, and nearly starved. I told you some of this when you first rescued me.”

James nodded. He felt a faint knot in his stomach at the thought of anyone laying a hand on Billy in such a way. Billy continued.

“But on the Eros, things were better. I stayed to my duties and was treated fair. Without having the constant fear of pain, men eventually find themselves with time to think about other things. So it was with me. There was a petty officer by the name of Jacob Douglass who had been forced into service as I had been. He was a few years my junior but God, was he a looker.”

A faint grin came to Billy’s lips as he gazed out to sea. James knew the look well; he was off on that ship, looking at that officer again.

“He and I struck up a friendship after we spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at each other without the guts to speak. When he finally approached me he was quite chatty. I was usually quiet—quieter then than I am now. But I didn’t mind his banter because he would always give me the most charming smile when he spoke or made a jest; he would look at me just so…”

Billy turned and looked at him in a way that made James want to bend forward and kiss him very badly. He licked his lips and looked away.

“Jacob and I became close,” said Billy. “Of course we kept up the pretense for as long as we could, but then one night we had both left our bunks to take a piss over the side. We exchanged a few quick words and then I went on my way. But then he grabbed me, spun me around, and kissed me. There was no other way it could have happened, you know.”

James nodded. Yes, he knew quite well. There was no normal way for men to approach other men, not in the civilized world. He understood only too well the sorrow that coated Billy’s tone, his gaze still far away as he spoke.

“But God, that first kiss…”

Billy closed his eyes, remembering. They fluttered back open.

“He was terrified, scared shitless that I was going to either hit him or report him. You can imagine his surprise when I kissed him back instead.”

Another wry grin. James mirrored it.

“After that, we had to work for it. We made sure to stagger our late-night meetings, always with an excuse ready. We would meet on deck in the dead of night and then go to a storage room, or the under the forecastle mostly. Some nights we found the night shift all about and could do nothing. Each time we managed to get together, the encounter was better than the last, so that when we were forced to wait…well, it became unbearable for me. Which is why I fucked it all up one night.”

James’s eyes fell. Of course. There were rarely happy endings for their kind, were there?

“I got impatient after two weeks of being apart. We had entered pirate territory and had come under attack the week before. Between repairs and stopping at several different colonies for provisions and new crew, we’d done little more than pass each other during shift change. So I wrote him a note on a scrap of paper and handed it off to him that day, telling him when and where to meet me. I was there; he never showed. I waited for as long as I dared in that storage room. Then when I opened the door to leave, heartbroken and full of this…fucking longing, I was greeted on the other side by the ship’s bosun and a few lieutenants. One of them waved my note at me.”

James looked up at Billy. His gaze had dropped to the sand at his feet, hard lines forming over his brow.

“They had Jacob with them. They took both of us out to the mainmast and one of the lieutenants pulled out a cat o’nine whip. I remember begging for someone to tell the first mate or captain because neither of them would stand for this. They laughed at me, then forced both of us to undress, pants and all, until we were naked.”

James swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He did not want this. He did not want to know Billy’s pain, not when he already knew how closely it was going to mirror his own.

“They whipped us good after that, forcing us up against the masts’ pole. Jacob was the first to break, screaming over and over as the whip came down. It felt like a hundred times those leather straps came down over me, slicing my back, my ass, my legs. But I found out later it was only thirty times because the captain came out and put a stop to it, even after he heard of our offense. Our *offense,*” Billy repeated through clenched teeth. “As though we had done something to *them.* The next night they found Jacob hanging from the beams in the galley, dead for hours. All on board the fucking *Eros.*”

James saw the moisture collecting in his eyes. He felt the same in his own eyes and he had to look away. The Walrus was closer now, perhaps ten minutes away. Still no sign of Vane or Jack or Anne either. His chest was tight and everything was uncomfortable again. He found his hand slipping to Billy’s thigh.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, knowing it would not help. Billy looked down at his hand, then turned to him, eyes red-rimmed but also angry.

“Do you have a story like that?”

James did not trust himself to speak so he nodded instead. And then he was leaning forward, eyes shifting to Billy’s lips, and just like that, Billy closed the gap between them and kissed him.

It was a tender but firm kiss. James tasted him and the salt from his sweat and tears. His chest was coiled tight but a sexual thrill hit his stomach, along with a biting wave of bitterness over Billy’s story, which had reminded him of his own.

Billy made a whimpering sound. James felt strong hands caress the sides of his face, fingertips curling into his shorn hair. He kissed Billy harder, until Billy’s lips parted and James slid his tongue inside. Jesus, he wanted this, wanted Billy, more than he’d ever wanted anything for a long time. It was not simply physical; he wanted to whip and beat the men that had hurt him, to make Billy’s sorrow crumble into nothing, to hold him and make him smile and all of the things he had thought no longer existed in his life—he wanted all of it for Billy.

Billy returned his kiss hesitantly at first but quickly deepened it, until James’s thoughts broke and dissolved and there was only the sweet and saltiness of his bosun and the feel of Billy’s fingers sliding behind his head, thumbs caressing his jaw. James curled his fingers around the graceful curve of Billy’s neck. He tried smiling between their kissing when he thought of Billy as a good kisser. Billy pulled back, trying not to grin at him.

“What?”

James licked his lips, savoring the taste left behind. He didn’t reply but instead turned towards the ocean again, where the Walrus had finally stopped.

He found himself frowning. To his utter amazement Billy had taken precedence over the importance of the chest and his concern for it.

Blinking and rising, he pulled out the spyglass to see that a launch was being prepared from the side of the ship. He was loathe to disrupt this new atmosphere between them but he knew he must. But then Billy did it for him. He jerked his head towards the Walrus.

“Perhaps you ought to greet them, while I check on the chest?” he offered with a raised eyebrow.

James looked at him. It was just an excuse for them to distance themselves from one another, and rightfully so, James knew. He nodded, still feeling frown lines on the corners of his lips. Another small knot was forming in his stomach; he wasn’t sure why.

“Billy, I…”

His words faded away. What the hell was he going to say?

“It’s all right,” said Billy. “We’ll talk later.”

That immediately made James smile and nod. Had he been worried that Billy had no intentions of continuing down this path? Evidently so, despite how desperate Billy had been only a short while ago.

James was unfortunately familiar with men who behaved backwards once confronted with their own true selves, even if their true self was nothing to be ashamed of, in his opinion.

“Later,” he agreed. Satisfied, he walked closer to the rollicking surf while Billy returned to the chest. Moments later, a muffled thudding sound came from the hill behind them. James turned. The black outline of a horse appeared in the late afternoon sun, sporting two riders. It cantered down the sandy hill and onto the flat of the beach. Anne Bonny had the reins and a disheveled and bloodied Jack Rackham rode behind her.

James quickly crossed over to them. No other horse or rider had appeared over the hill.

“Where’s Vane?” he asked as soon as they were within earshot.

Jack squinted against the sunlight or perhaps against some pain, James didn’t know which.

“The militia arrived before he could get away,” he said. “We had no choice but to run.”

Something in James seized up. Charles had been captured? He had suspected it, but the news still shocked him. He searched the sand at his feet. At first no cohesive thoughts formed, just surprise and anger.

“Fuck.”

Surprise, anger, and guilt. He should not have left Charles. He own words echoed back in his head: **You’ll be right behind us?** Damn! He knew then he should have stayed and helped. They could have freed Jack quicker, left the caravan quicker, maybe gotten into cover before the British had arrived. This was his fault. He needed to make it right. He looked to Billy, who was rising from the chest after checking its ropes.

“Take him and the cache back to the ship and get out of here.”

James turned and headed for his horse. Billy’s protest was immediate.

“What? You can’t stay behind!”

“I’ll go find Vane,” said James, adjusting the saddle on his horse and trying to ignore the tightness in Billy’s voice. “Once he’s free, we’ll find our own way back to the camp. Captain Charles Vane swinging over Nassau is a statement that cannot afford to be made.”

He knew it was a piss-poor plan, even as it had left his lips. How, exactly, he would both free Charles and find a way off New Providence and in what, he had no fucking clue. But he needed to do this.

“You. Cannot. Stay.”

Billy punctuated the words with the same intonation he’d used earlier to accuse James of being with Vane. His desperation was evident, so much so that James winced, glancing over to where Anne and Jack stood idly by, listening. Billy surged forward, eyes piercing.

“We’re about to get the war you wanted and perhaps a credible path towards something resembling victory, but the war is going to follow that chest and you’re the only one of us who can marshal it.”

Billy’s reasoning caught him off guard, as did the barely-perceived swell of emotion he was seeing in the bosun.

“He’s right.”

James turned to Rackham, who had sat down on the chest, still in some pain.

“He’s right,” Jack repeated. “If Charles knew we were even contemplating jeopardizing the grander effort to save him, he’d kill us all.”

There was a finality to Jack’s words that James found he couldn’t argue against. Before today, he might not have fully believed those words. However, he now had an inkling of just how much damage Eleanor Guthrie had done to him. Furthermore, Vane had fucked him as though he had a deep sense of commitment, whatever the cause may be.

**Told you I’d make a trophy out of you.**

Vane could still be an annoying shit, and yet…he was so very different than the Vane James had first met all those years ago. A better man, James thought. The guilt gripped him harder.

“I’ll go back and address the situation,” said Billy.

James blinked up at him.

“How?”

“By stirring resentment, finding sympathetic ears, reminding them that Charles Vane was once the best of them, still *is* the best of them. My parents were agitators. If we are to win this war, that may be exactly what we need. By the time I’m through, the governor won’t be able to hang Vane out of fear of losing the street.”

James had scarcely noticed that two of the Walrus’s launches had made it to shore. Ben Gunn was one of the men hoping out onto the beach. James focused on Billy, who was looking at him with barely concealed panic. His gaze was hard and steady, but James noticed his chest heaving. Jesus, Billy didn’t *want* to go, he realized.

And he was suggesting—no, *demanding*—the idea anyway, to keep James from staying.

His stomach was in knots. He wanted to reach out and give Billy the same kiss they shared only moments ago, and this time wrap his arms around the bosun and demand that neither of them go. But no. He could never argue that it would be best to abandon the other pirate captain to his fate, not without a fight.

James forced his eyes away from Billy and looked over his shoulder to the men emerging from the launches. There was no fucking way he was letting Billy go alone.

“Very well. Take Mr. Gunn with you,” he said in a flat tone. He gave a quick glance to the bosun but found he could not quite meet his eyes. Billy nodded but said nothing.

The knot in his stomach was now a huge twisted ball. The fear welled up inside him. He was sending Billy into the heart of enemy territory, and he could not even look into his fucking eyes.

If both Vane and Billy were lost to him, James worried the monster Silver had so recently helped to bury would surge free again, and James couldn’t help but think this time, he would not fight it.


	7. Chapter 7

They loaded the chest onto a launch. Jack insisted on sitting with the chest, so after some shifting around of men the launches were ready to go back to the Walrus, all accounted for, except for three men. Mr. Dobbs waited for his captain, who pretended that he was imparting important information to Ben Gunn while the newest crew member readied Anne’s mount.

When he and Billy were ready, Billy motioned for Ben to continue up the hill.

“I need a word with the captain,” he said.

With a nod Ben trotted his horse over the small hill. Billy and James stood close to the shadowed hillside. Flint looked as though he were helping Billy’s horse to him, pulling it in front of them and effectively blocking the view of the remaining launch.

“Like I said,” started Billy, “We’ll talk more when I return. I hope?”

His eyebrows lifted up at the question, hope and fear burning his eyes in equal amounts.

James swallowed thickly.

“Just…be careful. You need to keep a low profile, don’t do anything that might draw attention to yourself…”

“Captain…”

“You can stay at the house Miranda and I shared. And if you need to use your name in the town, make something up…”

“James.”

James stopped. Hearing his name from Billy like that caused something warm to spread in his chest. Still, he had to drag his eyes up to meet the bosun’s.

Billy looked utterly lost. He made an abortive attempt to say something, then his jaw clenched shut. He squeezed the top of James’s arm in an attempt at affection. James found it difficult to breathe. What if Billy was recognized? James had next to no faith that his pardon would still stand. What if he was caught and hanged? What if, what if, what if. God damnit.

With a quick glance around them and still mostly hidden from view, James quit thinking long enough to hook Billy by the back of the neck and pull him into a fierce kiss. Billy groaned softly and instantly returned it, their mouths and teeth and tongues clashing together with what felt like the force of tidal waves to James. He the kiss tell Billy how afraid he was. Billy broke away all too soon, eyes half closed and chest heaving.

“Just so you know, I fucking hate this plan,” said James, still holding him by the neck.

“I know.”

Billy closed his eyes and pulled away, letting his hand linger over James’s shoulder, slowly dragging it down his arm before breaking contact altogether. Then he took a deep breath and mounted his horse, tightening his belts and putting his head scarf back on. He looked down at James, blue eyes steady the way James had grown used to.

“You just make sure you win this fucking battle and live through it. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Billy spun away from him, urging his horse up the hill at a canter. For the first time since the entire ordeal with Billy had begun that day James found his legs not frozen to the ground but ready to run after the bosun, except now he could not. He let his gaze linger over the hilltop for as long as he dared before turning back towards the beach.

By the time he reached the launch his face was like stone again. He nodded to Dobbs and the oarsmen and set off for his ship, for the Marooner Island, and for war. And never could he shake the feeling that he was leaving a piece of his tattered heart behind him on New Providence.

\-----------------------------------

 

It was nearly two weeks later before he turned home. There had been little time to ponder on Billy or anything else besides the upcoming battle. Silver helped to distract him, but any quiet moments he had, James’s mind always drifted to Billy. Even when he decided to tell the quartermaster about Thomas at long last, the end of the conversation left him thinking about Billy, who was about Thomas’s height and had the same beautiful, piercing blue eyes.

They both survived the battle and won it, despite everything, including Silver’s dubious choice of Mr. Dobbs as the man to trick Hornigold into an ambush. Everything worked out as well as could be expected. The men who had survived from both the Queen’s camp and the pirates’ took time to mourn their dead, then celebrated their victory the next night.

James spent only a short time amongst all the bonfires and rowdiness. He let some of the men congratulate him on a battle well fought; some of them seemed to have gained respect for him and others, as always, continued to mistrust him. Silver offered him a drink from another decanter of rum but James politely declined. He had only one thing on his mind, and he told Silver he planned on returning to New Providence at first light. The island was in England’s control but despite that many of the men wished to return home as well. He and Silver made certain a good portion of them stayed on the Queen’s Island to defend it should the English decide to try anything.

Silver also stayed behind with Madi, for which James was actually relieved. Silver knew more about him now than any other living soul, and whatever his developing situation with Billy was, he wasn’t yet ready for Silver to get wind of it.

A few days later he was back on New Providence. They dropped anchor near the same section of beach James had left on; Rogers’ forces still held sway over the docks. He and the men trekked inland a ways that was well out of reach of any roads and decided on an area to set up a temporary camp; without open access to Nassau Town, his crew were virtually homeless, save for the Walrus.

James promised to help get them enough provisions and supplies so they could return to the Walrus and remain there until their next move. In the meantime, they would make camp. James took the opportunity to slip away that evening at dusk, carefully picking his way across the roads until he reached a familiar, well-worn dirt path. He followed it and arrived at the house a bit after nightfall.

The sight of the yellow glow coming from all the windows made his chest tighten. It was not Miranda. Not anymore, yet the whole scene felt like déjà vu to him; How many nights had he stumbled back here, to her, to the warmth he could find nowhere else?

Not Miranda, not anymore. This time, when he gently rapped at the door, the figure that opened it was armed with a pistol and penetrating blue eyes. When Billy saw it was him he lowered the pistol, face awash with relief. He backed up and James came inside.

“Jesus, you made it,” said Billy. “I heard what happened not two days ago. Rogers’ men fell into a trap. You killed Hornigold. I’ll be damned.”

James nodded. He let out a huff and flopped down in a chair. Billy’s brows furrowed with concern.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Yes. I was, but nothing that isn’t on the mend. I’m just tired. And…happy. To be here.”

Happy? The word tasted as foreign as it sounded to him, yet he’d said it. And he was shocked to know he might have even meant it.

“Happy?” Billy repeated, softer.

James motioned to him. “Come here.”

Hesitantly now Billy walked over to him. James stood, a palm planted firmly on the table as though it might mentally steady him. He looked up at Billy’s face and all the words left him.

“I missed you,” said Billy after a terse silence had passed. James watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed after the words. “I missed you more than I thought I would.”

And there was the fear and vulnerability written all over the taller man’s face that made James’s heart constrict and his pulse quicken at the same time. No doubt Billy was wondering whether or not they would continue down the road they had started before they had split up.

“I missed you too,” he replied, hoping he sounded tender and not rough. He must have, because Billy cupped his face and kissed him softly on the lips, softer and more tenderly than he’d been kissed in a long, long time. When he pulled away he looked as though he were searching James for something he wasn’t finding.

“What is it?” James asked.

“You’ve just returned?” Billy asked slowly. “You’ve not spoke to Featherstone?”

“No. Why?”

Billy’s looked away from him and gave a heavy sigh.

“It’s Vane. He’s…he’s dead.”

James blinked. Dead? Charles was dead?

“They sped up his trial,” said Billy. “Bastards decided to have it here. They built a gallows. We had no choice but to try and stop it ourselves. Yet when I was there in the crowd, watching him standing on that carriage, that rope around his neck…”

Billy swallowed, shifting his feet.

“Well what?” James asked impatiently. He could feel his anger rising.

“He didn’t want it, all right?” Billy said at last. “He looked right at me and shook his head. He looked so fucking…I don’t know. But he was ready; I saw it in his eyes.”

James blinked again. He felt his eye twitch.

“So you just let them hang him?”

“Yes because I knew and he knew, damnit!”

“What are you talking about?”

Billy stepped up to him defiantly, eyes sharp.

“We knew it was the only real way to begin the resistance in Nassau. If you were there you’d have agreed. The way the crowd reacted. There was no cheering, no celebration. Every pair of eyes there resented the English for it. You could fucking feel it, I’m telling you. Vane knew. He sacrificed himself for the cause.”

James clenched his jaw and forced himself to take a deep breath. Billy had let Vane die. Vane, who was one of their greatest assets, a true ally.

He cursed himself for the day the two of them had shared together.

James sat back down and started pulling off his boots. Already his anger was fading but he stubbornly held on to it. He glanced back up at the bosun, avoiding his direct gaze.

“There’s firewood to be split out back. If you’re going to stay, why don’t you take care of it?”

Billy stood there a moment longer, arms tightly crossed. Then wordlessly he turned and went out the door. As soon as it had shut behind him James sighed and closed his eyes. Fuck. He’d been with Billy scarcely a few minutes and had managed to alienate him already.

You cannot see it, can you? You are not alone.

His thoughts, coming from Miranda’s dead lips, echoed in his head. He’d spent all these years pushing thoughts of Billy Bones out of his head, so that he was certain those words were directing him only to Silver. Now he was forced to reconsider. Silver was, admittedly, a blessing in disguise, but his quartermaster could never fill the void inside him.

He sat there for a long time. Then he went to the bedroom to put on fresh clothes and washed his face and arms. By the time he went outside and around to the back of the house an evening storm was approaching. Billy was splitting wood, using the large, flat surface of a long-felled stump as a base. He’d taken his shirt off and had thrown it over a workbench against the back of the house. James watched him for a few minutes from the corner of the house. For as long as he could remember, he’d never squandered an opportunity to enjoy Billy’s well muscled form.

Already sweating, his bosun looked even more glorious when he was slightly miffed. James watched his stomach and arm muscles tense and flex as he raised the axe and brought it crashing down over the logs, sending their halves crashing to the ground.

He was certain Billy had noticed the large pile of wood already in the house.

“Billy.”

Billy split another log and stopped. He let the axe dangle from his arm and looked up at James. Above them the sky rumbled softly.

“We don’t need any more wood,” said James.

“I know.”

Billy leaned the axe against the side of the house and wiped his arm across his forehead. His eyes darted around pensively, until they finally landed on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that Vane meant something to you. I should have tried to save him—”

“Stop.”

James closed the gap between them. Billy’s voice was forced contriteness. James knew he was trying hard to appear genuine. He felt that particular constriction in his chest again.

“You’re not sorry,” he said. “And you told me very clearly why you should not have saved him.”

“Captain, I—”

“Don’t call me that.”

It irritated him now, to hear Billy revert back to titles. He cautiously raised a hand and delicately took hold of one of Billy’s necklaces, fingertips brushing against his bare skin as he rubbed a thumb over its design.

“I don’t ever want you to call me that when we’re alone, is that clear?”

It was the closest thing to what his tattered heart could manage at the moment. Billy held his gaze, brows furrowed. Then he leaned forward and kissed him again. James felt his entire body sigh into it. Thank God.

The soft, sweet kiss from earlier continued, but with each passing moment Billy grew more fervent, more demanding, and James encouraged him until he found himself backed up against the back of the house with Billy showering his lips and neck with kisses. Then Billy dug into James’s trousers until he found his treasure, pulling out James’s cock and working it until he was rock-hard.

James let his own hands roam all over Billy’s delicious half-naked form, pulling him closer and looking down as Billy worked him. Then Billy’s lips were at his ear and his voice was so low and rough it sent a shiver down James’s spine.

“Let me feel you from the inside,” he whispered.

James’s stomach flipped and a soft groan escaped his lips at the very thought. Dear God yes, he wanted that so badly, but a part of him was terrified. Having sex with Vane had been relatively easy, but even then there had been moments where James had felt too vulnerable. And what he felt for Billy—the shadow stubbornly stayed in his mind, just out of reach—was dangerously close to deep caring. He didn’t know if his heart could take it again.

“Please James,” Billy was whispering now, pulling frantically at his cock and panting down his neck. James tried to cling to rational thoughts, to gather the strength to push Billy away. Instead he found the bosun’s face and kissed him furiously, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him into it. He split Billy’s lips with his tongue and dove inside. Billy moaned. When James broke off to take a breath the words spilled out of him in a breathless slur before he could think.

“I’m fucking lost to you, do you know that?”

Billy’s eyes widened slightly, wet lips parted as he searched his captain’s face. Then he began tearing at James shirt. James let him, raising his arms and taking it off. He held Billy’s gaze as they each stripped off their boots and pants. Then Billy stepped back into his boots over the muddy and wood-chipped ground. He stood before James like a vision, a Greek statue chiseled into perfection, his erection thick and ready. James had scarcely put his own boots back on before Billy assaulted him again, leading him over to the wooden workbench that had his shirt thrown over it.

He pushed James against its edge.

“Up,” he ordered.

James slipped up on it and leaned far back until shoulder blades thudded against the house. Billy dug into his rolled up shirt sleeve on the bench and pulled out a vial of oil. He covered his fingers and cock with it, stroking it between James’s legs.

James felt as though he were in a dream. The world was still around him, unchanged, but he saw it all through a haze.

Billy worked his fingers in one by one, until three of them had penetrated his rim. James writhed against him, fingers digging into the edge of the bench. He spread his legs and leaned as far back as he could, back pressed painfully into the house’s wall but he barely noticed.

“Billy,” he said, voice husky.

Billy stayed close to him, one hand caressing the side of his face while his other dug deep inside him, fingers working James like magic. He was stretched and opened and yet Billy pressed on, panting heavily and looking as though he couldn’t get enough of James.

James pushed himself into it, eyes closing and head thudding against the wall. Fucking hell, Billy was amazing at this. He worked him until James thought he might orgasm just from Billy’s fingers.

Then, right when he was ready to beg, Billy pulled out and lined his cock up. He raised heavy-lidded eyes to James, asking the question silently. James nodded, his heart thumping wildly against his chest. A sizzling heat swept over his body as Billy pushed himself in.

Overhead it began to rain. It was little more than a light, lukewarm drizzle.

“We ought…to go in,” James huffed out.

“Mmm,” said Billy and worked his cock further inside James.

James’s breath caught in this throat and his thoughts scattered. Holy God. He hiked the heels of his boots up further, trying to give Billy as much access as he could. Then he reached down and funneled his own cock in his hand. His position on the bench allowed him to look down and to actually see Billy’s ongoing handiwork. He stared at the sight of Billy’s cock pumping inside him, slow at first, then with growing confidence.

It was different than his time with Vane. Billy was determined and passionate but never rough. He didn’t bite at James or grip him too tightly. It was almost worse, the way his bosun so lovingly fucked him, hands gently rubbing over his stomach or touching his jaw; his lips dancing over a knee and always returning to James’s lips to plant wet kisses with just a tease of his tongue.

It was almost more than he could handle. His chest ached even as his cock ached for release. Flashes of Thomas swam through his head and he was too muddled and too aroused to stop them. But this wasn’t Thomas. He forced his eyes open to look at Billy. Billy wrapped his hands over James’s own that clung to the edge of the table. He put more force into fucking him, rolling his hips and causing James’s entire being to shudder with pleasure. Over and over Billy did this, as though caressing him from the inside out.

James jerked his cock fervently. The rain had soaked them by now, coming down steadier. It only added to the vision James had of Billy as some Greek God.

“God damnit Billy,” he moaned.

“Come for me,” Billy whispered at his ear. He kept his pace, never slamming into James the way he could have, but it hardly mattered. It was already going to put him over the edge any moment. He pulled Billy close to him as an overwhelming sense of possessiveness took hold. Their foreheads were mashed together as James felt the pressure ready to be released deep within him. He felt Billy’s hand over his own as he pulled at himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It came stuttering out of him as his orgasm shook him, pulling him under its swell. He dug his fingers into Billy’s shoulder, face screwing up as he came into his hand. Dimly he was aware of Billy spasming and coming inside him. He moaned again.

When he finally opened his eyes Billy’s face loomed in front of him. He gave a chaste kiss to James, each of them huffing out breaths into the other’s mouth for several glorious moments. Then Billy pulled out of him and tugged at his shirt underneath James. James shifted and let him take it. It was soaked from the rain. They used it to clean off.

“Well, at least I don’t need a proper bath now,” Billy quipped to him as they picked up their soaked clothes and headed inside. James grinned at him and took him into the bedroom for dry clothes.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any trousers that will fit you, you damn giant,” said James, managing to find only a shirt for him. Billy grinned as James flung the shirt at him. James grinned back. The expression came easier to him each time. Everything with Billy felt easier, natural. Again he thought of Thomas, and again he pushed it away. Would this part ever get easier? For the first time in a long time he began to think that maybe it could.

They dressed and then James sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Now what?” asked Billy. “Storm looks like it might last a while.”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

Billy pressed his lips together and leaned against the bedpost beside him.

“Well I don’t know that many jokes,” he mused. “Just some really long sailor stories that all end in a whorehouse.”

James chuckled. Then Billy nodded to Miranda’s dresser table across the room. He eyed the book lying there.

“What about that?”

James went over and picked it up. He remembered it. It was the last thing Miranda had been reading before they left for Charlestown. It was a copy of the Third Earl of Shaftesbury’s Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, & Times. Miranda had never been as interested in the philosophers as Thomas, but every now and then she would take to a book, more out of remembrance than anything else. He picked it up and read its title out loud, raising an eyebrow at Billy.

The bosun shrugged.

“Why not? You read all the time. Why don’t you tell me what it’s about?”

“You want to know about the earl’s views on morality and ethics?” James asked dubiously.

“No,” said Billy. “I want to know more about you. How you think, what you think. And this…”

Billy walked over and gently plucked the book from him and opened it.

“This seems as good a place to start as any. If you’re willing?”

James looked up at him through his brows, ghost of a smile on his lips.

“All right.”

They went back to the bed. Billy lay down and threw an arm behind his head. James sat in front of him and cracked open the book. James did some explaining first, then some reading, then some more explaining. He was surprised to find he was enjoying himself, and each time he would pause to look at Billy, Billy would grin at him, until eventually Billy’s eyes grew heavy. After a while so did James’s. He stopped reading and laid the book down.

“Come here.”

Billy motioned for him. James hesitated, then crawled up beside Billy, propping himself up on an elbow and facing him. Billy turned on his side towards him, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Stay with me,” he said softly.

He closed his eyes. Tentatively James reached out and smoothed out a patch of disheveled hair, letting his touch linger. There was only the sound of the rain pattering down outside and Billy’s steady breathing. James finally relaxed beside him and closed his own eyes. There was still so much they needed to discuss and so much James was not comfortable with, that he was fearful of, but this was a start. He’d lost so much recently, but until now he had failed to see what he had gained: A loyal friend, the pirates of Nassau united as one as he’d always hoped for, and a companion and partner to share his home with. It did not compensate for what he’d lost, but this… He watched as Billy slipped into sleep, trying to keep his own eyes open.

This was something worth fighting for again.

***

Happiness is a tide: it carries you only a little way at a time,  
But you have covered a vast space before you know that  
You are moving at all.  
~ Mary Adams

Finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it. The only major element I left out from the finale was what Billy did about building Silver's legend, but at this point and as far as he and James are concerned I don't see it being relevant yet. So anyway I hope this did a decent job at building their relationship in a realistic way. Thanks for reading. :))


End file.
